


Learning Curve

by FourCatProductions



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Affectionate Insults, Age Difference, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Community: skyrimkinkmeme, M/M, Older Man/Younger Man, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut, Skyrim Kink Meme, Snark, Spitroasting, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-25
Updated: 2019-04-25
Packaged: 2020-01-31 13:34:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18592282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FourCatProductions/pseuds/FourCatProductions
Summary: Isran and Durak take it upon themselves to give the Dragonborn the benefit of their combined experience.





	Learning Curve

**Author's Note:**

> Original KM Prompt: "I need to see the DB (male or female) drinking or sharing a campfire with two older men (orcs and/or redguards preferably), and the DB is semi-drunkenly going on about their own sexual prowess and mocking the older men about being too old to enjoy someone or something of the sort implying that they’re too old for sex.   
> OF COURSE this leads to the two older men showing this little upstart all of the things that he/she didn’t even know one could DO for sexual pleasure, and just altogether blowing the DB’s fucking mind. "
> 
> Found this fill I started forever ago and decided to finish it up. There is no plot. We all know why we're here. Enjoy!

It had been a good hunt, and when Vanik dipped his face in the river, it lapped away the blood with an eager tongue. He stripped down and waded in until he was waist-deep, shivering. It was early spring, and the mountain water bit when the sun fell. He scrubbed at his skin and the blood sloughed off in dark ribbons, the current twisting them like banners in the wind. Some of it was his blood. Most of it wasn’t.

Not far from him, Isran and Durak were doing the same. It was a beautiful night, Masser and Secunda hanging low in the sky like ripe golden fruit, and Vanik watched the Dawnguard leaders from the corner of his eye while he wrung out his hair. They were old for warriors – past their prime, he’d thought at first, but he’d been forced to reconsider when they’d taken him out for his Proving and left him in the dust. Not that he minded. He had no interest in fighting for anyone who couldn’t best him, and he sincerely hoped never to find himself on the business end of Isran’s warhammer or Durak’s axe. Isran’s broad back gleamed when he ducked at the waist, muscle and scar tissue rippling across his skin. Vanik looked away, then back. Durak’s olive skin was also patterned with scars, his hair mostly grey, but when he turned, the moonlight cast the hard planes of his body in stark relief. Vanik shoved his head back underwater before they caught him staring. He’d always thought himself in good shape, but they made him look downright scrawny, and the knot in his belly wasn’t entirely from envy.

By the time Isran and Durak had waded back to the bank to retrieve their armor, Vanik had finished pitching camp for the night beneath a nearby oak. A fire crackled merrily at its center, and he sat on his bedroll in his breeches and little else, toasting bread and cheese. Neither of his mentors bothered with clothing beyond trousers, either, since none of them wanted to put their filthy armor back on until morning. The night was warm enough now that the snow had melted, and whippoorwills cooed from the treetops as they joined him.

“That ain’t how you build a firepit,” Isran said, sinking onto his bedroll, and Vanik shrugged.

“Don’t be so slow next time, and you can be the one who builds it.”

Isran’s gaze slid to meet his, and he wondered if he’d gone too far, but then Durak barked out a laugh and slapped Isran on the back, and some of the tension dissipated. “You hear that? The whelp’s calling you old.”

“You took even longer than he did,” Vanik pointed out, and now it was Isran’s turn to laugh. Luckily, neither of them seemed offended, and they ate and drank until companionable silence until Vanik finished his second ale. He was already starting to feel it, still riding high from the success of the hunt, and he reached for a third – sujamma this time, to change it up. Nobody liked it but him and Durak, so he could have his fill. “You both eat slow, too,” he teased, unable to resist one last jab.

“Nothin’ wrong with how we eat,” Durak said, looking up from his half-finished meal. “You’re just impatient, like all younglings.”

“I’m forty-five!” Vanik protested.

“A mere babe in Dunmer terms,” Isran said. His expression was impassive, but his dark eyes gleamed. Vanik scowled. The thought of them seeing him as little more than a child rankled, but he was willing to call a truce until Durak grinned at him, all tusks and sharpened teeth.

“Barely old enough to have gotten his cock wet.”

“Oh, fuck off!” The fire flared in its pit, embers popping as they drifted away into the night. “My cock’s gotten plenty wet.”

“Bathing doesn’t count,” Isran said. Vanik chucked a pebble at him.

“You’re just jealous.”

“Jealous.” Isran snorted. “Of _you_?”

“Even if anyone wanted to fuck you, it’s not like you’d be able to. Yours is probably full of cobwebs.” Durak laughed, and Vanik turned back to him. “Don’t make fun. If he’s got cobwebs, you’re shooting dust.”

“Big talk,” Durak said, sounding more amused than anything.

“I’ve been adventuring for years, even before all this Dragonborn stuff. What do you think I was doing before I joined up with you lot?” He cracked his knuckles. “Fighting vampires and dragons is fun, but not as fun as fucking your way across the province.”

It was Isran’s turn to laugh. “Cocky little shit, aren’t you?”

“What? Everyone wants a piece of the Dragonborn. I’m just playing the part.” That much was true – he’d gotten more offers than he knew what to do with after Alduin’s defeat, and when he did want company, there was never any shortage of willing partners to warm his bed for the night. Most of those nights had amounted to little more than drunken fumbling, but they didn’t need to know that. “I’ve probably been in more beds in the last year than either of you have in your entire lives.” He tucked his damp hair behind his ears. “Your very, very, _very_ long lives.”

Durak and Isran shared a look. It was silent, save for the rushing of the river and the fire’s steady burn. Then, Isran smirked, and Vanik’s stomach seized, a sudden clench of nerves mixed with alcohol and regret.

“You thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Yeah,” Durak said, getting to his feet. From where Vanik was sitting, he was impossibly tall in that moment, shadows playing eerily on his face. “I think this one needs to learn to respect his elders.”

Isran stood, too, and Vanik looked between them as they advanced, cornered against the tree at his back. He scooted back a couple paces, hands out. “Now, hold on – “

Durak grabbed his wrist. “Get up.”

“Wait,” he pled, but they hauled him to his feet like he weighed nothing, his heart pounding at the base of his throat. “Before you get mad – “ And then Durak slid one big hand around the back of his neck and kissed him, tusks pressing into the corners of his mouth, and the rest of his words were lost to the shock.

Kissing wasn’t something he’d done much. Most of his partners had either been anonymous or hadn’t cared for it, and he thought he didn’t either, until Durak gripped his jaw with his free hand and kissed him like he wanted nothing in the world but Vanik’s mouth on his. All other thoughts temporarily fled. A shadow on his shoulder, broad warmth at his back, and then Durak released him; before he could complain, he was turned around and pulled into Isran’s arms. It was a different kind of kissing, slower but no less insistent, and a delicious spark of pain shot through him when Isran bit his lip. He inhaled sharply, and Isran did it again, just as a second set of teeth closed around the tip of Vanik’s ear. His legs almost gave out, and only their combined strength kept him upright. He yanked his mouth away from Isran’s to snap at them, but Durak nibbled the shell of his ear and all that came out was a jumbled moan.

“Anyone ever done that to you before?” Durak asked. Vanik could _hear_ him grinning. “Here, let me show you a couple more tricks. Isran, kiss him again. He liked that.”

Vanik didn’t like being talked about like he wasn’t capable of speaking for himself, and he wanted to be angry, but he couldn’t quite manage it with Isran’s tongue in his mouth. They held him there for a while, pinned between their bodies while Isran bit at his lips and kissed his neck and Durak methodically worked his ears with teeth and fingers and tongue until he was a squirming, panting mess, grinding his cock into Isran’s hip. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this turned on, and they hadn’t even touched him below the waist. He wasn’t even naked, for Azura’s sake. He’d just managed to find a good rhythm when they both pulled away, leaving him wobbly and dazed.

Durak shook his head. “What did I say earlier? Impatient.”

“You don’t get to come,” Isran told him. “Not that easy.”

Vanik’s voice finally returned, scratchy with arousal. “What…” He cleared his throat, looking between them. “What is even happening here?”

“Teaching you not to be such a little shit,” Durak said as he tugged Vanik forward by his waistband. Vanik stumbled to him, unsteady, and thick, callused fingers set to work unlacing his breeches.

“I thought you were going to throw me in the river.”

“This is more effective,” Isran said, easing Vanik’s breeches down his hips. He was still hard, cockhead wet and flushed, and he bit back a moan when Isran took him in hand. “And maybe you’ll be more respectful once you’ve had the benefit of our combined experience.”

Vanik opened his mouth to say something clever, but Durak pinched his nipples and the shock jolted it right out of his head.

“Hey!”

“You looked like you were gonna say something smart,” Durak said, rubbing Vanik’s nipples with his thumbs. This was much more pleasant, and Vanik found himself arching into the touch, biting his lip. “You’re not gonna get smart with either of us right now, are you?”

“Not as long as you keep doing that,” Vanik said, a little breathless. And then Isran did something with his hand that made Vanik moan for real, hips bucking while little starbursts popped behind his eyelids like embers. If it hadn’t been for Isran’s arm around his waist, he would have lost his footing entirely. “Do we have to be standing for this?”

“Yeah,” Durak said, grinning at Isran over his head.

“Wh – ah!” He’d been about to ask why, but Durak crouched down and slid his mouth over Vanik’s cock, big hands curling around his hips while Isran held him still, and the word came out as a yelp, his eyes rolling back. Durak’s mouth was hot and wet, surprisingly soft in the way his tongue traced patterns around the head, and Vanik’s breath was coming out in rough pants again, toes curling in the dirt. It felt like he was going to melt, surrounded by all that lush heat. He tried thrusting, but Durak’s fingers dug into his hips; when he went to put his hands in Durak’s hair, Isran gripped his wrists together and held on tight, kissing the back of Vanik’s neck. Neither of them would let him move, and he was forced to remain still, trembling with the effort of remaining upright while Durak sucked him off, all attention focused on his cock. Sweat trickled down his neck. He whimpered when Isran licked it away and bit his shoulder, and he could already feel his orgasm coming, radiating outward from his groin in painfully sweet waves, but then Durak pulled off with a wet noise that made him twitch and it went away. He groaned.

“I told you already, that’s not happening,” Isran rumbled in his ear. “Not yet.”

Durak brought him to the brink three more times, only to ease off at the last second and let it ebb away, and each time Vanik growled and swore and moaned, writhing senselessly in Isran’s grasp. It was like some sort of magic, how Durak knew exactly when to stop, how to keep him suspended between agony and bliss for those few torturous seconds before dragging him back. He was going to die if they didn’t let him come, he was sure of it. Or maybe he’d already died, and this was some horrible corner of Oblivion reserved just for him, one where he was endlessly tormented but never allowed release.

“Come _on_ ,” he begged, already hoarse, and Durak chuckled and gave his thigh a squeeze.

“Quit whining. We’ve barely started.”

“Should put the bedrolls together,” Isran said, and turned Vanik around to kiss him again, hand sliding between their bodies for him to rut against. His bare torso was firm, skin hot to the touch, and Vanik felt him up shamelessly, biting his lip until he groaned. It was barely audible, but it still sent a sharp thrill through him, and he massaged Isran’s chest, nails grazing his nipples. Isran sucked in a breath, but before Vanik had a chance to explore any further, Durak cleared his throat from behind them.

“Come on, then.”

Isran disentangled their bodies – reluctantly, Vanik was pleased to note. “Get started. I’ll get the oil.”

The bedrolls had been pushed together, and Vanik was arranged on all fours on top of them, legs spread and hips canted. He didn’t mind – it felt good to be close to the fire again, and his muscles were already tight with anticipation, eager to get back to it. Durak had stripped his trousers off, and he sat in front of Vanik, stroking himself to full hardness. He was a good size, not too long but plenty thick, and when he saw Vanik staring he dropped his hand to his side. “Let’s see what you can do with that mouth besides talk.”

This, at least, was familiar territory. He knew his technique could use a little work, but he liked to think he made up for it with sheer enthusiasm; judging from the way Durak’s breathing changed, his hand tightening in Vanik’s hair, he agreed. Vanik stroked him with both hands while he tongued the head, spit running down his chin and over his fingers, and every grunt and groan only urged him on. He was really starting to lose himself in it when a shadow fell across his back, and slick fingertips brushed the sensitive area between his arse and his balls, making him jump.

“Don’t let me distract you,” Isran said, and pressed a finger deep into his flesh, making his back arch – into it or away from it, he didn’t know. It wasn’t bad, but it was already a lot, his nerves heightened and tensions running high. His neglected cock bobbed between his thighs, heavy and dark. “Keep doing what you’re doing.”

Vanik was happy to be teased until he was pliant and fuzzy-headed, half-drunk on the sensation of being filled from both ends. It helped that he had Durak to concentrate on, bracing himself against those muscular thighs while he opened his throat little by little, until he could sink most of the way down, his nose brushing the thick black curls at the base of Durak’s cock.

“Fuck,” Durak swore, his hands still tangled in Vanik’s hair. It felt so nice that he held it for as long as he could, tears forming in his eyes as he let Durak fuck his throat until he couldn’t anymore and pulled off, gasping for air. Isran took the opportunity to do something with his fingers that nearly made Vanik collapse, his sore arms threatening to give way as he moaned, loud and shameless. There was no one around to hear them but the trees. Isran nailed into him relentlessly now, just this side of too much while Durak stroked his hair and ears, and there was nothing Vanik could do but lay between them with his arse in the air and take it. He desperately wanted to touch himself, but he was sure he wouldn’t be allowed to, and that was a strange pleasure unto itself. He was reduced to rocking against nothing with each stroke, breathing hard through his nose as he pushed back against Isran’s fingers, and then the fingers were gone and he groaned at their loss.

“You perfect slut,” Isran rumbled, slapping his arse fondly, and there was a lot of shuffling and rearranging the bedrolls as they switched places. Vanik wasn’t sure if he was supposed to like the name-calling as much as he did, but it made him squirm.

“Should have done this a lot sooner,” Durak agreed, big hands closing around Vanik’s hips. His fingertips pressed into the groove between groin and thigh, and Vanik hoped there’d be bruises come morning. He wanted proof it had actually happened.

“Fuck me,” he growled, arching his back and nuzzling against Isran’s cock as it brushed his cheek, leaving a smear of precome behind. Isran shook his head, even as he smiled crookedly, and Durak laughed.

“What was that? Couldn’t hear you properly.”

Vanik opened his mouth to demand it a second time – or crack a joke about hearing loss, he hadn’t quite decided which – and Isran shoved his cock into Vanik’s mouth without warning, muffling his surprised moan as Durak slid inside him. The head of Isran’s cock hit the back of his throat just as Durak’s thighs pressed flush against his own, and Vanik trembled between them. He’d never been so deliciously, achingly full in his life, like something he hadn’t known he was missing had just clicked into place. Isran’s cock was heavy on his tongue, and when Durak shifted, fire danced along his spine. They’d barely done anything and he was already halfway to coming all over again. How was he supposed to survive this? A rough hand fisted in his hair.

“Ask him nicely,” Isran said, pulling Vanik’s mouth off his shaft with a filthy-wet noise. “Go on.”

“Please,” Vanik said hoarsely. “Please fuck me.”

Durak grinned. “If you insist,” he said, and his first thrust nearly sent Vanik face-first into the dirt.

He wasn’t used to holding out. Most of his past encounters had been an exercise in who could get the other one off faster, and while he wasn’t complaining, he hadn’t realized it could be like this, either. All he could do was try not to suffocate while he got fucked into the bedroll. It was almost too intense, but every time he thought about telling them to slow down, Durak would grab his hips or shift himself just right, and the angle would have Vanik reeling all over again. He couldn’t even focus on sucking Isran’s cock for more than a minute or two. Luckily, Isran didn’t seem to mind, as long as he kept his teeth out of the way. He threaded a hand in Vanik’s hair to keep him steady, blunt nails scratching pleasantly along his scalp. Sweat beaded on Vanik’s skin, dampened his neck and underarms and trickled down his back; he was so full it almost hurt, but in a strange way, he didn’t want it to stop. He arched his back, pleading, and little by little, Durak slowed until he was barely moving at all. If it had been too much before, now it was torturous, and Vanik shuddered, fingers digging into the bedroll until they ached.

“I think he wants to say something,” Durak said. Isran’s hand tightened in his hair, and Vanik’s mouth was pulled free with an obscene sound that made his own cock harder still.

“Well?”

“’m sorry,” Vanik panted.

“For what?”

“For saying you were too old to f – “ Durak’s hand snaked around his hip, knuckles brushing hot against the underside of his cock, and the rest dissolved into a stuttered moan.

“My ears aren’t what they used to be,” Isran said, straight-faced. “What was that?”

“I’m sorry!”

“You don’t look very sorry to me.” Isran’s thumb smudged his cheekbone, dragged down to press into his lower lip. “We can fix that.”

“We could keep you from getting off,” Durak said, low in his ear, voice like hands all over his skin. “Could both come and then leave you here, sloppy and wrecked. Let you find your own way back to the fort and ache the whole way there ‘cause you didn’t get what you needed. You’d be a lot less mouthy after that, wouldn’t you?”

“Gods,” Vanik said, hips twitching weakly, and Durak chuckled.

“Nah, ain’t no gods here. Just us.”

After that, time seemed to blur, melting in on itself. The world narrowed to Isran in his mouth and Durak pounding him just this side of too hard, pinning Vanik’s hips down, pulsing inside him until he thought he might come from the feeling alone, and then a sudden and lonely emptiness as they both pulled away. He bit his tongue to keep from whimpering, and after what felt like an eternity there were warm, rough, blessed hands on him again, maneuvering him into Isran’s lap while Durak knelt beside them. He hissed, eyelids fluttering when Isran’s cock breached him – it wasn’t small, and the angle made it feel even bigger. Isran’s hands curled around his thighs, chest solid at Vanik’s back and beard tickling the nape of his neck.

“Alright?”

“Yeah,” he managed after a moment, swallowing hard. Everything from the waist down was hot and shaky and tender, and he _ached,_ his length slapping against his thigh when it twitched. “Alright.”

“I can stop.”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Vanik groaned, and it turned into something softer and needier when Durak reached out and took him in hand. It was a little awkward at first, trying to match rhythms, but eventually they got it so that Durak was stroking down while Isran gripped Vanik’s thighs and ground into him, and then Vanik got his hands braced against Isran and started fucking himself in earnest, eyes squeezed shut and lower lip clutched between his teeth. He could feel it building again, the head of his cock slick from where he was leaking into Durak’s hand, and his body was so hot he thought he might combust, burst into flame and burn away to nothing, to ash –

“Go on, boy,” Isran growled in his ear, “go on – “

When it hit, it ripped through him fast enough to make him dizzy, head lolling back against Isran’s shoulder while he gasped soundlessly. The wide-open sky spun above him, stars blurry. Isran kept thrusting, hard enough that he felt it in his teeth, and then stilled, his heart hammering against Vanik’s back. Vanik shifted, felt something trickle out of him. He watched with bleary eyes as Durak brought his hand to his mouth and licked his fingers clean, and his exhausted cock gave one last twitch.

Isran was gentle enough when he pulled out, but everything was still sore and overly sensitive, and Vanik winced. All he wanted to do was collapse on the bedroll and sleep forever, sated, but he’d barely closed his eyes when they each took an arm and helped him to his feet, swaying between them. Durak patted his shoulder.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up. You’ll thank us when you wake tomorrow.”

“Nnh,” said Vanik, and let them lead him to the river.

The cool water was a balm to his skin. He cleaned himself at his leisure while Isran and Durak crouched on the bank, doing the same. Isran glanced up when he waded over to join them, a smile hiding at the corner of his mouth. “You good?”

He grinned. “Never better.”

“Guess we did a lousy job punishing you,” Durak said, and Vanik snorted.

“You call that a punishment?”

“Still haven’t learned any respect for your elders, I see,” Isran said, and by way of an answer Vanik grabbed both of them by the arm and pulled, sending all three of them toppling backwards into the river. He was still grinning when they surfaced, spluttering and dripping wet, expressions murderous.

“I think you’ll have to teach me another lesson when we get back to the fort,” he said. “The first one didn’t stick.”


End file.
